


hello, my old heart

by humanveil



Category: The Office (US)
Genre: Coda, Episode: s08e18 Last Day in Florida, F/M, Season/Series 08
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-07-20 06:03:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19987318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/humanveil/pseuds/humanveil
Summary: Impracticality.





	hello, my old heart

She catches him as he’s leaving; a name called out in an emptying hallway, her hand on the office door as she holds her breath. He stops instinctively and Angela pauses for a moment. Contemplates, even at the last second. 

She’s a practical person, especially lately. What she wants to do is anything but. 

That’s often the case with Dwight, she thinks, and she wants it to bitter but it isn’t. That’s also part of the problem. 

Dwight watches her, waiting. Angela sighs and steps forward. The photograph in her hand is of Philip: soft and intimate, his face resting against her chest as he sleeps. The Senator notably absent. She’d kept it in her desk, tucked beneath some files in her top draw, there to look at when she pleases. She isn’t like Jim and Pam. Has no desire to cover her desk with family photos. But she loves her son, and sometimes, the reminder is nice. 

She’ll just have to replace it with something else. 

Dwight’s expression is expectant; a hint of confusion mixing with it. Angela tries not to notice the flicker of hope that flashes in his eyes, but his emotions are a familiar subject she hasn’t bothered to unlearn. She doesn’t dwell on it, though. Or, at least, she tells herself she doesn’t. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” she says after the silence stretches, the tension building. She tries hard to keep her voice neutral, void of the tremor she’d let slip when Andy announced Dwight had left them in a way that implied he was gone for good. She still remembers the way her heart had stopped: shock the only thing stopping the sadness from taking over. Even as Andy corrected himself, assured them that Dwight hadn’t actually died, Angela had realised that the reality wasn’t much better. Not to her. 

It’s why she’s here. 

She lifts her hand, the photograph facing down so all Dwight sees in the gentle gleam of shiny paper. His brow furrows but he reaches to take it, his fingers brushing Angela’s: warm and rough, the touch lingering longer than it should. It reminds her of their early days and she has to swallow around the emotion that claws at her throat. 

Dwight doesn’t turn it over, his gaze locked on her: singularly focused with a familiar intensity. He opens his mouth to speak but Angela turns away, her step quick as she hurries back the direction she came. She’s still with the Senator, after all, and a marriage vow is not one she’s willing to break. Tempting though it may be. 

She spares him a glance once she’s back inside, peeking at him through the adjacent door. She doesn’t know the full story, has only heard snippets of gossip, but she knows enough to understand why he looks so heartbroken to be back. It’d tugged at her, at those old, buried feelings. She’d wanted to do anything to change it. 

And this... Well. 

She catches his smile: big and bright and obvious, nothing like her own. He’s staring at the photograph with happiness, a look of pride settling across his features. It makes Angela’s chest warm and tight but it also scares her. Dwight’s paternity is something she will deny until she’s blue in the face, something she’s not yet willing to outright admit: to him, to herself, to anyone. This act goes against that. Is a confirmation if she ever saw one. 

She shouldn’t have done it, she thinks. But...

But Dwight looks up, his eye catching hers through the door, the smile still plastered across his face. He nods once, like some sort of thank you, and Angela allows herself a flickering, fleeting smile before she turns away. 

She doesn’t regret her decision. Isn’t sure she could.


End file.
